Inside Your Head
by CoolnRainy
Summary: Set in the future sometime … Harvey and Donna are together, but they're hitting a rough patch. This is about how they learn to stay them even when things are different.


**Summary: **Set in the future sometime … Harvey and Donna are together, but they're hitting a rough patch. This is about how they learn to stay _them_ even when things are different.

**A/N: **I'm not usually one for too much angst, but well, here we go. Don't worry, I don't believe in sad endings. This will be in two parts.

**Disclaimer:** Suits, its characters and its plotlines don't belong to me, but to those guys who went ahead and wrote it for us.

x x x

Part 1: 

In all the years they had spent together, all the years he had known, trusted and loved her, in all the thoughts he had entertained about her, Harvey had never once thought that Donna would be the one to break _his_ heart.

He had always imagined … no, imagined was too strong a word. He had always _assumed_ that, should a time come where he and Donna actually crossed the line between what they were and what they could be, it would be him to screw it all up, to freak out, to walk away. Hell, he had spent a good deal of time determinedly not thinking about the possibilities, because he had felt a pre-emptive guilt at how he would hurt her.

What made it all worse, for some reason, was that he knew she had always assumed the same thing.

* * *

It was all her fault, really, he had thought to himself.

She was the one who had pushed him into a relationship with Scottie. Okay, sure, that hadn't worked out. But she was the one who made him realise that maybe he might kind of be a relationship guy after all. Maybe. And he had always known, deep down inside, that if he was ever going to look for a deep and meaningful lifelong commitment with a women, it would be with her.

Hell, he had already made that commitment to her, as unconventional as it might have been.

And so, he found himself falling in love with her all over again.

Because, yes, it had sort of happened all those years ago. Just a bit. But he had had no intention of being the guy who was in love, and she had had her policy so it hadn't mattered much. The feelings sort of simmered below his awareness until he forgot they were ever there. But now that it was happening again, now that the feelings were beginning to boil back up into his reality, he couldn't help remembering that he had once been a little bit in love with Donna Paulson.

And so began a torturous few months as he fought against the feelings that weren't supposed to be there, as he fought to block out the vivid dreams that were really just intense memories of _that time_, as he fought to make sure all the turmoil remained out of her knowledge. Because she could never know, that much was the truth.

She could never know.

* * *

He took a glug of his scotch, and scowled as he entertained these depressing thoughts. He hadn't truly thought about them over the past few days, fiercely repressing the swelling ball of misery that was lodged in his stomach. He treated it as a desire to be sick, but that you held back until you could make it to the toilet.

Of course, you couldn't hold it back forever, and tonight it had all come rushing out, polluting his chest and his head. So he had unceremoniously cancelled on dinner with Jessica and a very important potential client he was supposed to close and gone home to get as drunk as possible. He wished he had gone to a bar instead. His apartment felt empty without her, and the more he drank, the worse it felt.

* * *

It had started with a dance.

They had been at an office party, which was being held on one of the larger mezzanines. He had been ignoring Louis babbling on about something and sipping a drink while surveying the room, when he saw Donna talking to one of his least favourite clients, Don Wheeler. She was looking highly aggravated and, recognising the danger signs from long years of experience, he abandoned Louis and headed over to divert her from a possible disastrous outburst.

Having dumped his glass on a nearby tray, he swept up to her, saying, "Let's dance."

Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed her hand and dragged her into the midst of the many dancing couples, before pulling her into his arms and beginning to dance to the fairly lively beat.

"What are you doing?" she asked irritably.

"You looked like you were about to punch him," he said.

"I was," she grunted.

He smirked and said mildly, "Maybe you shouldn't be doing things like that to one of our highest paying clients with all the firm partners present."

"So I should corner him in an alley instead?"

"Good idea."

He took the time to spin her around a little. He and Donna had always been very compatible dance partners and he was enjoying himself.

When she returned to his arms, he asked, "So what did he say?"

"Nothing."

He raised his eyebrows pointedly at her and she rolled her eyes and looked bad tempered. He managed to guess just from that look on her face. Don had always had a thing for Donna, his favourite line with her being "You complete me like you complete my name, Donna." He had asked her out more than once, but she always declined citing firm policy as her reason.

The real reason was that Don was an ass.

That part had been easy enough to assume from the moment he had seen them talking across the room. The thing he put together from her expression and the fact that she didn't want to tell him was that Don very likely had accused her of being in love with Harvey.

"I see," he said.

She sighed.

"And I suppose me grabbing you for a dance hasn't helped matters much," he mused.

"No, not so much."

He grinned and twirled her again, spinning her around him and loving how little effort he needed to lead her. When she was back once more, he said, "He's not looking very happy at all."

"He's looking at us?" she asked, sounding annoyed again.

"Glaring, more like."

"Oh, honestly."

"This is fun, we should do this more," he observed after another spin.

"Yeah, sure, because we have so much occasion to dance around the office."

* * *

Remembering the feeling of her being so in sync with him as they had moved to the music only reminded him of how in sync they had been in bed together. Which reminded him how in sync they had always been in every way. And that thought made him feel even worse about life. He couldn't believe how hard he had fallen for her. He remembered staring at her in bed and thinking words like "love" to himself.

He remembered her eyes shining back at him, always filled with that deep twinkle that was Donna. The twinkle of the good humour with which she observed the world. The twinkle of the secret of who they were to each other that they had shared from the moment they had met.

The image of that twinkle was enough to make him pour himself a fourth scotch. He didn't even bother to add ice this time.

Her eyes had been filled with that twinkle as Harvey had spun her in his arms at that office party.

* * *

That hadn't been _the_ dance, though. The one it had started with.

That one came after a couple more songs when _Where Do You Go To, My Lovely_ started, and he held her closer and slowed their steps. They never slow-danced; it was one of their unspoken rules. Hell, just generally speaking, they danced very rarely, and it was always a brief experience to music that didn't require much physical contact.

But this time he ignored the rule, and kept her firmly in place.

Not one to pretend, Donna had said, "We shouldn't be dancing like this."

"Like what?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in an innocent expression.

She cocked her head at him and gave him a pointed look. He mirrored her expression, a routine they were long used to. Then he said, "No-one cares."

"Yes, they do," she retorted.

"They're not even watching," he said, glancing vaguely around at the cheery room.

"Yes, they are," she said, not even bothering to follow his gaze.

"How do you-"

"I _know_."

For a moment, they smirked at each other.

"Well, who cares?"

"Me."

"Why?"

"Because, you know what they'll all think. And anyway, I'm supposed to be the purveyor of gossip around here, not the subject."

It irritated him, somehow, that she found it annoying that people might think she was in love with him. He did know that it was the unrequited impression that she hated, but just the same. It irked him. So, in order to avoid furthering the conversation, he took to singing along to the lyrics (very softly, so that only she would know).

"Really?" she said, looking at him in amusement. He had known it would distract her, and he grinned.

And they spent the next couple of minutes laughing and singing along, Donna teasing him for knowing the words ("I should buy you a Bee Gees record for Christmas this year … something you can play in the background while you read your Mills & Boon novel").

And then they were silent, smiling at each other, and he almost forgot the storm of unresolved feelings that had been occupying his heart. He was just enjoying her. Until the last lines of the song played …

_I know where you go to, my lovely …_

She was still smiling, laughter in her eyes …

_When you're alone in your bed …_

His storm came back and he felt his laughter leave his …

_I know the thoughts that surround you …_

Her eyes went dark, too, burrowing into his …

_Because I can look inside your head …_

Every word was as fierce and piercing as though it had been carved into his skull, as though the universe had been screaming the truth at him. She was staring at him and he was staring at her, and he knew, he just _knew_ …

_She can look inside my head._

He was watching her do it, watching her watch him …

_She knows._

* * *

Even now, the memory of that moment made him shudder. The unexpected vulnerability that had attacked him in that moment had probably been one of the worst sensations he had ever experienced.

It also made him angry now.

She _knew_ how he felt about her. She had known then, she had known before he had, she had always known. How could she not know now?

Unless she did and she didn't care.

But that wasn't like Donna.

After all, the only reason he allowed vulnerability in her presence was because he knew she would never take advantage of it.

He dug his fingers into his hair and tugged angrily at it, the pain in his scalp serving as a slight distraction from the pain in his chest. He almost hated her right then for doing this to him. Never in his life had he been this distraught over a damn woman … Never.

But she wasn't just a damn woman.

She was Donna.

And she would never ever want to hurt him.

* * *

He had let go of her arms and backed away instinctively, feeling oddly horrified.

"Harvey-" she began, her hand half reaching out to him in a placating gesture, but he was suddenly aware of all the people around them. People who were laughing and dancing and drinking, and on the whole paying him very little attention. But he suddenly felt that if anyone looked over at him in that moment, they would know, too.

So he turned away and made his escape from the mezzanine, heading for the stairwell. After mere moments, he heard her following a few steps below him.

"Harvey!" she called out, but he was taking the stairs two at a time, and he knew she would fall behind in her heels.

By the time she caught up to him in his office several floors up, he had already poured himself a scotch, downed it and begun pacing the room. As soon as she entered, looking slightly out of breath and annoyed about it, but also deeply concerned, he rounded on her, glaring.

"You know," he said.

She didn't respond to this, just closed the door behind her and took a few steps forward without breaking eye contact.

"You do, don't you?" he pressed, loudly and accusingly. "You know!"

"Yes!" she snapped back, his tone obviously riling her. "Yes, okay? I know."

For a moment, he felt completely torn. He half wanted to run away and half wanted to yell. Since she was blocking the exit, he opted for the latter.

"How! How could you know?!" he demanded, his voice shaking slightly. He couldn't take his eyes off hers, even as his stomach churned unpleasantly.

"You think I'm blind?" she said, trying to make her tone light. "Or do you think you're the first man I've ever seen look at me like that, because if so-"

Her teasing made him more angry.

"This isn't a joke, Donna!"

She cocked her head at him again, her look resigned and exasperated. He knew that look well, and it was almost comforting. Almost.

"I know, Harvey," she said, her voice firm and calming.

For a few moments, they stared.

"You've always known, haven't you?"

She scowled very slightly, looking uncharacteristically defensive.

"So have you," she retorted. "You just chose to ignore it."

The truth of that washed over him, but he found to his frustration that she expected him to know more. She expected him to know how she felt like she knew how he felt, but he didn't. God knew, he didn't.

He knew she had once felt what he had once felt. But what she felt _now_ was a mystery to him. And now that it was out there from his side, he needed to know.

"Donna …" he began, but it petered out. He didn't know how to ask her.

She heaved a heavy sigh.

"Harvey, let's just … we don't need to have this conversation."

His rage flared up.

"Yes, we do!" His voice was trembling again, although this time it was with anger. "I need to know what you're thinking, Donna, I need to know!"

"No, you don't!"

They were both raising their voices to each other.

"I do, because it's not fair! I can't read you like you can read me! You need to _tell _me!"

"Harvey, I can't _tell_ you! We have rules, we have-"

"It's _your_ damn policy!" he roared. "Not mine! _You_ made the decision-"

"Bullshit!" Her eyes were burning at him now. "You made the decision as much as I did! _You_ chose working together over a relationship, you chose my policy-"

"Oh, so now I'm the jerk, because I wanted to keep you in my life?" he demanded in disbelief. "We both know a relationship had no guarantee, we both know _this _was the most important thing-"

"Harvey, that's not what a meant!" She looked deeply irritated. "We do both know that, but you knew how I felt and you chose to live with that. So don't put this on me … this was _our_ policy. And you and I both know it was with good reason. We needed rules!"

He battled against her logic, but it didn't work. He knew she was right … if he had wanted to fight her on it all those years ago, he would have, and they both knew it. But they had both chosen the more stable, happier option for them. It had been the right choice, he knew that, and he would do exactly the same thing if he went back.

But now …

He pinched his nose and closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted.

"Harvey," she said, her voice soft. "We can't do this."

He opened his eyes and stared at her, a horrible feeling settling in his stomach. It was a feeling of intense loss.

"We can't not do this," he said, just as quietly.

Her eyes widened and she looked slightly panicked.

He strode towards her and she dodged him, circling around him so that she was standing near the window, facing him and half backing away. He didn't stop advancing on her, but he did say, "Donna, stop it."

"No, you stop it!" Her voice was sharp and it succeeded in making him falter, a mere three feet from her. "How could you want to risk this? You know how much we have to lose … everything, the last thirteen years, just … it's not worth it."

Her eyes were shining, and he realised with a start that it was from tears. He didn't let that stop him, though. He stared her down and said coldly, "What makes you think I would let us lose everything?"

"I know you won't want to, but-"

"No, you don't understand. I _won't_ let us lose this!"

"Don't gamble with us, Harvey!" She was trying to sound firm, he knew, but she sounded more afraid.

"I'm not gambling!" he snapped. "For God's sake, you know what we are to each other! Why on earth would you expect us to be unable to keep it together? We've overcome everything, and with good reason!"

"We can't go back! If we do that, there's no going back!"

She definitely sounded panicky now, but he was exasperated. For a second, he paced away from her and threw his arms up in frustration and then paced back, glowering at her.

"You think we can go back now?" he asked, his voice having lowered to a sincere meaningful tone. "You think I can go back? Don't you see? It was always going to be you. And now, it's happened. Now it _is_ you. Make no mistake, Donna … whatever happens next, we won't be going back."

"And I thought you said you wouldn't let us lose anything," she retorted darkly.

"We won't _lose_ anything … but we've gained something, and it's not going away."

The tears were shimmering in her eyes again and for the first time, he saw the indecision in her eyes. It gave him hope.

"Do you want this, Donna?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, taking the last step towards her.

He saw the answer in her eyes, saw how she looked at him.

He placed his hands very softly over her waist and brought his face close so that their noses were almost touching.

"Harvey …" she breathed, and he knew it was both an admonishment and an invitation.

He closed his eyes, inhaled her and very softly brought his lips to rest lightly against hers. It was a very slight contact, their heavy breathing swimming between them. And then he felt her give in and he gave in and that was that. When they broke away, a lifetime later, they both knew they had made the decision.

He had never seen her look so vulnerable or afraid, and he was certain she could have said the same thing about him.

And yet … he didn't think he had ever felt so happy.

* * *

He stood up suddenly, shaking his head to clear away the memory. But the alcohol had made his brain sludgy and the memory stuck in the front of his mind in spite of himself. It was more than the memory of the kiss … it was the memory of everything they had promised with that kiss. It made the sensation of his loss seem unbearable, a great gaping hole of uncertainty that had moved into his life.

Somewhere around then, somebody knocked at his door. At any other point in the evening, he would have ignored it, but he was so grateful for the distraction that he strode over and wrenched it open. He had mixed feelings upon seeing Mike there. A sort of mixture of reflex annoyance at the intrusion, and relief at the sight of someone who he both liked and trusted. Other than Donna, he didn't have many of those people in his life.

Mike opened with a helpful, "You look like shit."

Harvey felt a bit better.

* * *

"Where are you going?"

He had been confused, really, arriving home from a particularly good dinner with a client, only to find her exiting his door and looking grim.

"This was a mistake."

He had frowned at her, and tried to deny what he knew she meant. But the look on her face beat any attempt at denial to a pulp.

"Why?" he asked, bypassing pretense.

"We both knew this … this was a risk, and we shouldn't have taken it."

She sounded angry and hurt, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. As far as he knew, the two months of their togetherness had been going extremely well. They had both been happy, filled with fun and laughter and passion.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"I need to leave, Harvey. I'm sorry."

And she had walked away, him gaping after her in stunned anguished disbelief.

Because he just knew that she meant more than leave his apartment.

She meant leave his life.

And not once during the worst conversation of his life had she looked him in the eye.

* * *

"Look, I'm sure she'll come back," Mike was saying reassuringly.

Harvey didn't bother to reply. Mike didn't understand.

"I mean, come on, she'll spend a day working for another lawyer and instantly realise she can't stand him."

Harvey had never been one for boisterous encouragement, so he said, "Shut up."

Looking un-phased, Mike sipped his drink.

"Anyway, she's with her parents," Harvey added after a pause.

"How do you know?"

"I tracked the GPS on her cell phone."

"Of course you did."

There was another long silence and then Mike finally demanded, "What did you _do_?"

"Nothing," said Harvey crossly. "Or if I did, she didn't say what it was."

"That's unlike Donna."

That was true. She was always very upfront with him. With everyone, really, but especially him.

But then, things had been different.

"It must have been something bad. You weren't interviewing for other assistants or insulting her filing system, were you?"

Mike was joking, but it was for a lack of understanding. And so, the alcohol fuzzing up Harvey's brain to a cynical who-the-hell-cares-now-anyway point of view, he decided to tell Mike the truth.

"We were together."

"Together … where?"

They stared blankly at each other.

"I mean romantically, you idiot."

* * *

It had taken remarkably little further encouragement that night. They both knew it was too late, it was done, they had decided. And so they had gone back to his place and spent a very blissful night in bed together, reliving their memories, talking and laughing until the sun came up. And then the rest of that day, which had been kind enough to be a Sunday.

Sex with Donna was incredible … It had been that first time so long ago, and nothing had changed. Well, it felt better really, with more than a decade more affection and trust between them. Hell, he had barely been able to keep his hands off her and he was happy to say the feeling was mutual.

In between, they engaged in the kind of physical and verbal affection they had been holding back from over the years. And they spent much of the rest of the time being just them. It felt natural, warm, safe … every now and then the surreal nature of the situation would hit one of them, something that would usually result in a lot of kissing and a lot of other things.

And a lot of smiling.

The main hiccough had been returning to work that following Monday.

"We're late," Donna said nervously, checking her watch.

"So?" said Harvey, slamming his door shut.

"So, we're never late."

He gave her an amused smirk as Ray pulled off.

"Okay, _I'm_ never late," she amended.

"It happens," he said with a shrug. He was staring at her legs and her body in one of those dresses that were designed to drive men crazy.

"Pay attention!" she said.

His eyes snapped up to hers in time to see her rolling them. He grinned.

"People will talk …"

"No-one is gonna talk."

He was firm, secure.

"But, we don't arrive at work together-"

"Bullshit, we have plenty of times."

She looked unconvinced.

He sighed, and said firmly, "No-one ever talks because we never care what they say. We just do what we do, and bullshit to the rest of them. The only thing that people will notice is you caring that they're noticing."

Almost before his eyes, he watched her transform back into the Donna who, not only didn't care if people were looking at her but in fact very happily went about attracting those looks.

"You're right," she said, smiling back at him.

He laughed.

"Interesting being the one having to talk you down for a change," he observed.

"About time, don't you think?"

A sneaking suspicion suddenly settled into the back of his mind.

"Wait … you weren't nervous at all, were you?"

She smirked and turned to gaze elegantly out of the window.

"Testing me? Seriously?"

"I'm Donna."

* * *

"You were … Oh my God. Since when?"

Mike looked stunned and Harvey felt a lot more bored about it than he should have. A mere three days ago, he would have greatly enjoyed observing this reaction, possibly with Donna there to help mess with Mike's head. But right now, he couldn't care less.

"Couple of months," he said vaguely.

Mike shook his head in disbelief.

"How did I miss that?"

"Because you're always so self-absorbed."

There was another long pause and then Mike said slowly, "So … she left because you were together?"

"I assume."

"But why?"

"I don't know, do I?"

* * *

They finished their drinks.

"I miss her."

"So go get her back."

x x x

**TBC**

**A/N: **Thanks for reading :) I'd love to hear what you thought.


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